The Tourist Basher
by Shorina
Summary: A difficult case of a serial killer prompts Morse and Lewis to take a bit different approach, putting one of them in danger.
1. Planning Stage

**Author's Note**: This is my first attempt at writing a longer Morse story. I hope I got him fairly right...  
**Disclaimer**: The characters of Morse, Lewis and Superintendent Strange belong to Colin Dexter. I merely borrow them for this story which is making me no money. All other appearing characters are my creation and completely fictional. Similarities to any existent persons are not intended.

* * *

"Look, I'm the right gender, age and martial status. I really see it as our best option." Chief Inspector Morse sat in a chair opposite Chief Superintendent Strange's desk, doing his best to get his point across.

"You playing the lure for a serial killer?! I don't think so." The expression on Strange's face was a mix of worry and doubt.

"Well, what else do you propose we do? Catching him in flagranti will be the best thing. There are too many people who get in touch with the tourists. We have no idea who it is, if it is one of those at all. Maybe one of them is only passing on information. We just don't know!" Morse was tempted to throw his hands up in despair but restrained himself.

Strange stared at his Chief Inspector, thinking. "Lewis will be with you?"

"He'll be close at all times. And backup will be on stand-by."

Strange shook his head in desperation. "It's really our last resort on this case it seems." He sighed. "All right, do it. But dammit, Morse, be careful! I don't want the next victim to be one of us."

- ~ - ~ -

With Strange's O.K. to go ahead with their plan, Lewis and Morse set to work on the preparations. Morse booked a hotel room at the Randolph and a ride on the tourist sightseeing bus for the next day as well as tickets for the opera the same evening. In the meantime Lewis organized backup to be close by and on stand-by at all times. With his Chief playing lure for a serial killer who had already killed three tourists, he wasn't willing to take any unnecessary risks.

Once they were done with their preparations, Morse decided it was time for a pint. Of course it was Lewis who had to get the first round of drinks. And as usual, it was a pint for Morse and orange juice for himself.

"So," Morse said before Lewis even had sat down, "you think Mrs. Lewis won't mind helping us out?"

Lewis took a sip of his orange juice before answering. "Nah, don't think so. She's always complaining about living in a place like Oxford and never having the time to marvel at the sights. She'll enjoy the tour. And she won't be in any danger, she's just my cover so I can keep an eye on you."

Morse nodded. "Good. Just make sure you get her home safely in time."

"Ah, no worries, Sir. She needs to be home by the time the kids come home from school."

"Ah, yes, the kids. Are they all right?"

Lewis looked at his Chief in surprise - so many questions about his family, very unusual for Morse. "They're fine, yes."

"Fine." Lewis wasn't sure if Morse was repeating his words or meant it as a reply. He didn't ask as Morse picked up his pint and drowned half of it in one go.

When Morse remained silent after putting his glass down, Lewis noticed the absent look on the older man's face. Was he more worried about their plan than he let on? "Are you all right, Sir?"

Morse's head snapped back into Lewis' direction. "Hm? Oh, yes, yes. Fine."


	2. The Long Wait

Later that evening, Morse arrived at the Randolph by taxi and checked into his room for the night. If he was to impersonate a tourist, he'd do it properly. And the fact that the Randolph had a nice bar was not to be overlooked. In the end Morse didn't drink much though as he found for once he wasn't in the mood for it. Instead he went back up to his room, lay on his bed and thought about the day ahead...

After breakfast he'd walk to the stop of the sightseeing bus and mingle with the real tourists for the day. They had checked that no other person meeting the criteria they had come to think of as important to their killer would be on the tour, making Morse the only possible target on the bus.

As they had come to the conclusion that their killer picked his victims at some point throughout the day out of those people who took part in the tour, Lewis – with his wife as cover – would be on the bus, too. Four eyes saw more than two. They'd keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously.

They'd be meeting in the bar of the Randolph after the tour to exchange their ideas.

After dinner the really dangerous part of their plan would begin. All victims had been killed on their way to or from some evening activity, which in Morse's case would be the opera visit. Even though it wasn't his beloved Wagner, it would be the highlight of the day. He'd be travelling by taxi, like the other victims had done, with Lewis following in his unmarked car and backup somewhere close, but remaining out of sight.

He was certain they had taken everything into account, still he couldn't shake off the uncomfortable feeling that had crept up at him a few hours ago.

- ~ - ~ -

After a night of tossing and turning, Morse for once decided on a real breakfast. He needed something to draw strength from for this long day ahead. Sated he went back up to his room to fetch an old tourist guide he had found on his shelf the day before. He couldn't remember when he had bought it or why but it would improve his cover.

As he stepped out of the hotel, dressed in comfortable trousers and a polo shirt, he was greeted by mild temperatures and sunshine. At least it would be a good day for sightseeing. Briskly he walked over to the stop of the tourist bus and inwardly sighed with relief when he saw Lewis and his wife getting on the bus ahead of him. He quickly approached the guide so she could tick him off on her list and entered the bus.

He found his Sergeant sitting on the aisle with his wife occupying the window seat. Lewis was dressed in jeans, trainers and a short-sleeved shirt with the collar open. He had even brought a camera along. The perfect image of an Oxford tourist.

Their eyes met for a moment and Morse nodded at the younger man. "Good morning. Lovely weather for the tour."

"Oh, aye. Just perfect for taking some pictures."

Morse slid into a seat opposite Lewis. "Yes, it certainly is."


	3. Holding Out

The morning went by without anything suspicious happening. They stopped at some of the colleges, passed the Ashmolean Museum and St. Mary's church. At noon they stopped at the canal where the tourists could go for a walk and get lunch at a pub.

Lewis went for a short walk with his wife while Morse headed straight for the pub. He wanted a pint, and he wanted it badly. He took it out into the garden and sat in the sun. After a while the Lewises walked up to the pub from the canal. "Mind if we join you," Lewis asked pointing at the empty bench opposite his Chief.

"Not at all," Morse answered with a smile. So Lewis left his wife with Morse and went to fetch lunch and drinks. When he returned, they made small talk as if they were strangers, talking about the places they had visited, the weather and very subtly approaching more personal matters, making sure they mentioned Morse being a bachelor. If their killer was supposed to take the bait, they'd have to make certain he knew about his possible victim. Morse had already chatted to some of the other tourists before, so he was hopeful their killer was getting the message, whoever he was.

Still, by the time the bus returned to their starting point, he felt none the wiser in regard to their killer. As he headed for the bar of the Randolph, he went through all the people he had encountered throughout the day. He had not noted one person acting suspiciously or even paying him any more attention than the other tourists on the bus. For once he couldn't even come up with one of his admittedly sometimes rather far-fetched theories.

- ~ - ~ -

It didn't take Lewis long to arrive at the bar after sending his wife off home with a kiss, but he noticed his Chief wasn't in the best of moods the moment he spotted him at one of the tables. He ordered a glass of juice at the bar and walked over to Morse.

"Oh, hello. So we meet again. Would you mind some company?"

Morse looked up at him from his crossword puzzle. He forced a fake smile onto his face. "Not at all, please take a seat... Robert it is?"

Lewis nodded. "Aye, it is. Anything interesting in the paper?" He sat down and pointed towards the newspaper with his glass.

"No, not really."

Lewis nodded and sipped some of his juice.

"So, Robert, are you and your lovely wife going to visit any of the sights again?"

"Oh, I don't know. It was all nice to marvel at, but there's only so many old buildings you can look at before they start looking all alike."

The talk about the newspaper and the sights had been their idea as cover. If one of them noticed anything or anyone throughout the day, they'd come up with a reference to it in regard to either some story in the paper or the sight they had encountered anything interesting at. But as they now learned from their short conversation, they both had drawn a blank.

"Anything you'd consider looking at again?" Lewis wanted to make sure he got it right.

"I'm afraid I won't have the time. I'm going to the opera this evening but tomorrow I will be leaving Oxford already."

Again Lewis nodded. "You were just 'round for a quick look around then."

"So to say, yes."

Lewis finished off his juice. "Well, I'd better be going. The wife will already be waiting. Enjoy your opera." He got up.

"Thank you, I most certainly will."


	4. The Opera

Morse left the bar soon afterwards. He stopped by the reception and asked for a taxi to be waiting for him in time to get to the opera. Until then, he went back to his room. Being so clueless unnerved him. He considered making use of the room service for dinner as he didn't feel like going down to the restaurant. He decided against it. Exposure was the key to their plan, he needed to be seen. But again he noticed nothing suspicious. The food he barely tasted.

He went back up to his room before it was time to leave for the opera. From there he dialled the number to the mobile phone Lewis had started carrying around lately.

'Lewis.'

Morse didn't bother with niceties. "Where are you, Lewis?"

'Just across the road, found me a free lot with a good view of the entrance.'

"Good. Backup is on stand-by?"

'Several cars are posted on the way from here to the opera house. Don't worry, Sir, we'll be keeping a close eye on you.'

Morse didn't know what else to say. "Good. My taxi should be arriving any minute so I'd better head downstairs."

'I'll be following right behind, Sir.'

Morse nodded before realizing Lewis couldn't see it. God, he was nervous. He'd been in dangerous situations before, but usually he knew who he was dealing with. Having to be suspicious about pretty much everyone he met was getting to him. He hung up, pocketed his opera ticket and left the room. He approached the young woman at the reception about his taxi and she confirmed that it was waiting for him outside.

Morse stepped out of the hotel. The taxi was waiting right in front of the entrance. He glanced around before approaching it which caused the doorman of the Randolph to rush over and open the door for him. In the short moment, Morse had spotted Lewis' car across the road. The man was where he was supposed to be. He nodded his thanks to the doorman and gave the driver his destination as he entered the back of the car.

The drive to the opera was uneventful. Morse looked out of the window, watching Oxford rushing by. Traffic wasn't too bad and he arrived at the opera early. He stood outside for a moment, pretending to enjoy the mild evening air, but he was really waiting for Lewis' car to pass by. Once Lewis had found a free lot in visible range, he went inside.

The music relaxed Morse and his bad mood and edginess from before seemed gone by the time he stepped out of the opera into the now dark evening. He walked down to the line of taxis waiting to take the visitors. He didn't waste a single thought on Lewis this time, his head still full of lovely music.

"Back to the Randolph, Sir?"

Morse looked up at the man who had addressed him. It was his chauffeur from before, holding open the rear-door of his taxi.

"Oh, you again. Is Oxford this small?" He smiled and entered the taxi.

"Not really, especially if you also count the outskirts. But every cabby knows that there's always a tour for him when the opera ends." The man smiled back at him amicably, closed the door and got behind the wheel.

Morse nodded and looked out of the window again. He vaguely registered a car starting on the opposite side of the road and it's lights coming on. He opened the opera program he had bought and looked up the name of one of the sopranos. She had a wonderful voice. He was so engrossed in the program that it took him a while to notice they weren't on the direct route to the Randolph. As a matter of fact, he had no clue where exactly they were.

He leaned forward to address his driver. "Excuse me, are you sure this is the direct route to the Randolph?"

"Ah, no. There's been an accident, heard it from the company. Road is blocked and as that leaves all the side streets jammed, I'm taking a different route."

Morse nodded but became a bit suspicious. Of course in a city like Oxford accidents happened all the time but this area looked too far out of the way. He craned his neck to look out of the rear window, hoping to see lights following them but all he saw were dark, empty streets.

"Not a very popular bypass it seems?"

"No, Sir. That's why it's a good route. We're not getting stuck in traffic, so even though we're taking a detour it won't take much longer."

"Look, this seems to be an industrial area and I know those are nowhere near where we have to be."

"Just relax, Sir. We'll arrive before you know it."

Again Morse twisted to look out the rear window. Where was Lewis? As he turned back around, he saw something in front of his face for a split moment before something burned in his eyes like hell. He screamed in pain and reached for his eyes...


	5. Danger

Lewis had a hard time following the taxi without being spotted. He had been forced to turn out the lights a while back when there had been no traffic and only few street lamps for a while. He was driving one handed, punching numbers into his mobile phone with the other hand. "Yeah, Lewis here. Change of plan, we're off the route, you got to redirect backup. We're on... ," he looked around for a street name and passed on the information once he spotted a sign.

When the taxi suddenly swayed and then stopped maybe 150 meters ahead of him, he knew something was wrong. He dropped the phone and stopped his car, clenching the wheel tightly as he stared ahead to see what was happening. He could just about make out movement inside the car, then the driver got out and Lewis saw he was holding something in his hand. He was too far away to make out any details in the darkness around him but instinct told him his boss was in danger. He jumped out of his car and ran for the taxi, absent mindedly pocketing his phone.

The driver had opened the rear door by now and Lewis could hear yelling and moaning. He sped up a little more when he recognized Morse's voice. The driver was dragging Morse out of the car and it was obvious something was wrong with the Chief Inspector. He was wildly punching the air without any aim with one arm while frantically rubbing at his face with his other hand. Lewis was close enough now to make out the heavy torch the driver was raising above his head. With a last sprint and a shout of "Nooooooo!", Lewis barrelled into the man, sending them both to the floor. It had all been happening to fast to do anything else.

The taxi driver hadn't seen him coming so the sudden attack left him disoriented for long enough so Lewis could pin him down and reach for his handcuffs. "Sir, are you all right?" He called over his shoulder, not daring to fully take his eyes of his prisoner.

Morse had managed to lean against the car and was rubbing at his face with both hands, moaning. "Pepper spray," he managed to say.

"Don't rub!" Lewis dragged the struggling and cursing taxi driver to his feet, shoved him into the front of the taxi and closed the door. With his hands cuffed behind his back he couldn't do any harm.

Lewis gently approached his Chief and pulled his hands down. "Don't rub it in, you're only making it worse." When he was content that Morse was indeed keeping his hands down, he got out his mobile again and called for an ambulance. A minute later ,backup arrived. There wasn't much for them to do but to caution the taxi driver, then take him away and gather the can of pepper spray and the torch as evidence.

Lewis sank down on the pavement next to Morse and just kept talking to him in a quiet voice. Morse had his eyes closed, it probably made the burn bearable. But without being able to see what was going on around him, Lewis hoped his constant chatter helped to make his boss feel better. An ambulance arrived soon afterwards and the medics took Morse away to check his eyes though he was insisting they were getting a lot better already.

Lewis wished he could accompany his Chief to the hospital but as senior officer on the scene he had to wait for the SOCOs to arrive and check out the car properly. It would be towed away after a first once over but until then he was grounded here. Close to two hours passed until Lewis could finally leave. He was on his way to the station when his phone rang. He had dropped it onto the passenger seat when he had finally left the crime scene and now had to bend over to retrieve it.

"Lewis," he said tiredly.

"Any chance of a lift home, Lewis?"

"Sir, are they letting you go already? How are your eyes?" He felt wide awake again the moment he heard the familiar gruff voice.

"Yes, they are indeed letting me go. The doctor seems content that my eyes will be fine after some rest. I'm not supposed to drive for a day or two but that's all. So how about the lift?"

"I'll be right over, Sir."


	6. Conclusions and Confessions

The next morning Morse's eyes felt a lot better and he smiled at the worried once over his Sergeant gave him upon picking him up. Lewis had already stopped at the Randolph on the way to Morse's and picked up his belongings which had hastily been deposited in Morse's hall. The Chief Inspector's mind was still reeling with the events of the previous evening. He needed to question the taxi driver, Jerry Munkle, as Lewis had informed him when he took him home from the hospital. Though Morse had been up half the night, thinking, he hadn't managed to come up with a motive and still wasn't sure why the man had seemed familiar to him. Well, maybe his Sergeant could jog his memory.

"Lewis, have you seen Munkle before?"

Lewis cast a sideways glance at him. "I haven't had a chance to check it out yet, but I think he works at the bar in the pub we stopped at yesterday."

Morse nodded. "Of course, you're right. That's where I had seen him before."

"But it doesn't explain how he came to be your driver..."

"Isn't that obvious? Someone tipped him off. Only two real possibilities there: Either someone at the taxi company who is referring the tours from the Randolph to him or someone at the hotel calls him directly."

"He could just be waiting at the Randolph for a tour, though."

"What, all these murders happening by chance? No, someone's in on this with him. Not necessarily aware that they're assisting in a murder, but he's got help. Get on to the taxi company first thing. I want to know how he got to be there for my tour yesterday."

"You could just ask him. Don't you want to question him?"

"I will question him, Lewis. In good time."

"So, what will you be doing until then?"

"I have some things to think through."

- ~ - ~ -

At the station Lewis set to finding out how Munkle had come to be the driver for Morse the previous evening, he picked up the first lab reports and checked Munkle's background. When he finally returned to the office he shared with Morse, the Chief Inspector sat hunched over a crossword puzzle. The older man looked up. "Well?"

Lewis didn't comment on Morse's 'thinking', instead gave a quick summary of his findings.

"Munkle indeed works as daytime barman at the pub. He's only been doing it for seven weeks. Before, he worked as a waiter at the Randolph. He was fired after a guest accused him of theft. Apparently he's been struggling a bit money wise which is why he's also driving a taxi in the evenings. Even with two jobs his bank account is overdrawn."

Morse nodded and signalled for Lewis to go on.

"The tours weren't assigned from the taxi company though. They told me he picks up most of his passengers without assignment from them. So he might just have been waiting at the Randolph for a tour after all."

"What?! Most certainly not. If it's no one from the company, it must be someone at the Randolph."

"How can you be so sure of that, Sir?"

"I just am. Anyway, what else have you got?"

Lewis had saved the best bit for last. "The lab has checked out Munkle's torch. They say it fits with the damage on the skulls of our victims. They also found traces of blood on the handle which they're still checking. Hopefully it'll match at least one of our victims. They're still checking out the car but don't have much hope of finding anything interesting. Too many people are in and out of a taxi."

"Good work, Lewis. Now we're ready to question Munkle."

Lewis wasn't sure if the praise was his to take as the lab had produced the most important bits but praise didn't come his way too often from Morse so he didn't point it out. "I'll have him brought up," he said instead and reached for his phone.

- ~ - ~ -

An hour later, Morse had all the information he needed. Lewis sat at his desk, putting together all the information and evidence to build their case against Munkle and he himself had returned to his crossword. He sighed. No way would he be able to count the time he needed for this one with the interruption. Having to start on it twice had spoiled the fun.

There was a short rap on the door to their office before Superintendent Strange strode in and looked around. His eyes lingered on the folded newspaper on Morse's desk a bit longer than on the mass of papers and notes spread over Lewis' workplace.

"Well? Case closed then?"

"We're still waiting for the final lab report but Munkle definitely is our man."

"Has he confessed then?"

"He has indeed."

"Good, good. Well, let's hear it then. I have a press conference on the 'Tourist Basher' in an hour and though I don't want to feed any details to the press, I'd like to know what I'm talking about."

"Jerry Munkle had been working at the Randolph as a waiter. Two months ago, a tourist accused him of theft. They couldn't prove it but the management still had lost trust in Munkle and set him free. This tourist happened to be a bachelor of approximately my age, travelling alone. Munkle blamed him for the loss of his job and developed this rage against everyone reminding him of the man. His girlfriend works at the Randolph at the reception and when Munkle got the job as taxi driver, she tipped him off on tours she thought could be profitable for him."

"Like taking well-off tourists to their evening activities," Strange concluded.

"Exactly. She referred a lot of tours to him, not only those of the tourists who got killed so apparently she never got suspicious. Uniformed colleagues are on the way to pick her up for an interview just now. But I don't think she was aware of what he did."

Strange nodded. "The unsuspecting girlfriend. She probably thought she did a good deed..."

"Munkle also works at the pub the sightseeing tour stops at for lunch which is where he chose his victims. It was easy for him to spot who was on his own – like I was. No wedding ring, ordering just one drink or meal... then when he found them in his taxi in the evening, he saw his chance for revenge."

"But he couldn't take his revenge on the man he really blamed so his anger didn't fade and so he just kept killing," Lewis explained.

"Well, I can honestly say I'm glad he didn't manage to quench his thirst for revenge last night." He turned to Lewis. "Good job you did there, Lewis."


End file.
